One Talent

Recently, the moments in which I enumerate all that I have not accomplished have become more frequent. I sometimes have these moments when I see friends and FB associates approaching mastery (an idea I’ve become obsessed with) as they finish their years of “apprenticeship.”  This one’s an editor and writes beautiful prose with ease. That one’s a professor of art and paints beautifully. Another quilts and runs quilting workshops. Still another is an activist striving to make positive changes in the community.  Not me. I’m just trying not to flip out or sink into depression. Sanity is my magnum opus.

In these low moments, I try really hard to say things to myself like, “But don’t worry, you have this beautiful family. They are your work.” But all the people I envy, including the millionaire direct marketers and those of Instagram fame also have families and are great mothers. So, then I try to tell myself, “Don’t compare, we all start from a different place. You don’t need to be doing anything other than following the path that is right for you.” And while I know that is true, that wisdom seldom works to set my mind right. So, I try to think about something else, because I can’t find any personal accomplishment or material possession that will satisfy my ego in the treacherous game of comparison. So, I turn off my phone and do something to get my head space right again: exercise, write, get stuff done, or pray. If I want to wallow deeper, I eat simple carbs and call to commiserate with a friend.

Obviously, we know that it’s a bad idea to compare ourselves with others. But we still do it…all the time. A good indication that we are comparing is when we find ourselves criticizing, either ourselves or the person we’re comparing ourselves to.

How, people, do we get away from this self-destructive comparing?

Part of the answer is found in The Parable of the Talents in which Jesus teaches that talents are innate abilities that the He gives to us. We are responsible for using our talents which helps them to grow and multiply.

In the parable, the Lord gives the first servant five talents.  The servant doubles them and the Lord is pleased and promises to make the servant ruler over many things because he has been “faithful over a few.” To me, these five-talent people are born beautiful and everything comes easy to them. They are musical, athletic, smart, and have probably started a charity. They are the ones we loathe on social media, but masochistically, can’t get enough of.

The Lord gives his second servant two talents, which the servant doubles and the Lord is pleased and makes him ruler over many things. This is the middle-class of talent levels.  Most people think they belong to this category. This group might have one or two talents to list on a resume or win an award for. But the other talents they have are things like ‘good listener’ and ‘organizes closets well.'

Finally, the Lord gives the last servant one talent, he buries it out of fear he’ll lose it. The Lord chastises him and takes it away. These are the people, like me, who are wondrously unathletic, try to gain a musical talent but don’t really make it, and don’t quite have the discipline to be the academic we’re sure we were meant to be. One-talent people don’t have awards or impressive CV’s to share. They might, if pressed, come up with one of those quasi-talents to list such as ‘likes cultural activity’ or ‘appreciates beauty.’

I railed against this parable for a long time. It seemed so unfair that some get to be born into talent-privilege where the system seems set up to help one multiply her talents. Think of the Gwyneth Paltrow’s of the world. Born beautiful by most standards, has a movie producer dad and Steven Spielberg as a Godfather. Girl, you better be winning Oscars. How hard is it to be these people? I get it--the grass is always greener... But the parable tells us, we come into this world with different amounts of capabilities and gifts; that reality is what bothered me for so long.

Could it be true that I’m just not as good and capable as other people? That these Mormon women I’ve been comparing myself to really just come with more talents? Does this parable confirm what I’ve suspected all along, that they really are better than me? 

I haven’t fully come to terms with the answers to these questions. However, I’ve learned that worrying about how I stack up against others and not thanking God for what talents I do have are forms of burying my talents. Not recognizing the source of any gift I have is akin to hiding it beneath the earth or under a bushel.  The moment I begin questioning if my progress and aptitude are as good or better than another person’s, I halt my ability to grow my own talents. Comparing feels so awful because we shift our focus from one that is virtuous to one that is vindictive. Comparing inevitably gives birth to the twin vices of envy and jealousy and no character growth occurs when we keep company with them.  

To be clear, more capable does not mean more worthy; all souls are great in the sight of God, but we can each seek to please Him by using our capabilities to fulfill our unique purpose here on earth.

The idea in The Parable of the Talents that helps me the most when I’m tempted to compare my accomplishments with others’ is that the Lord doesn’t care how many talents we end up with, only that we’ve doubled what we were given.  The person with one talent, only needs to turn that into two. So, I only need to recognize the one I am already blessed with and develop it into another talent. That’s doable. And the Lord will delight in my efforts. We also have the additional promise that the Lord will add gifts as necessary, but he can’t if we bury our talent out of fear that we will never be as great as our Instagram friends or the Johnson’s who make it on time to church each week, perform the special musical number as a family, all while looking like they stepped out of a magazine.

Surely, I will continue to compare myself with others from time to time, even though I’ll make an earnest effort not to.  But, the difference now, and what it has taken me all of 39 years to realize, is that being me, glaring flaws and all, is ok. I get to be me…develop me, and add upon the gifts that are uniquely mine. It is very freeing to finally realize that I don’t have to do this Mormon thing like anyone else, this faith thing like anyone else, or this life thing like anyone else. I get to claim my religious experience, my spirituality, and my existence; that is how I use my talent and multiply it.